my history with tobacco

here i am on my third day as a non-smoker.  i'm feeling pretty good today, starting to cough up some of the crap from my lungs and noticing the first few positive changes already.  it's amazing how fast the body is capable of recovering from such abuse.  i saw a "quit smoking" advertisement the other day that says your blood/oxygen levels return to normal only 8 hours after quitting, and after 24 hours your chances of a heart attack decrease. after something like 9 years it is difficult for a doctor to determine the difference between your lungs and those of a non-smoker.  so i am hoping to be completely fresh and new by the time i turn 43.

i think that writing about my habit every morning is helping me substantially, so i'm going to keep it up.  when i go back and read previous entries, it makes me think about the gravity of my task and gives me the resolve i need.  today i'm going to talk about my personal, and very long, history with tobacco.  it's a strange story that i've always puzzled over and i'm not sure if i'll ever really understand.

perhaps the strangest thing about me is that i've always been fascinated with smoking, and i can remember dreaming about smoking since i was 3 years old.  my parents have always been non-smokers, so to me this is one of the most baffling things in my life.  i don't know if i saw people smoking in public, or watched smokers on tv, i just know that i was always really interested in smoking - especially blowing smoke out of my mouth. 

i even have clear memories throughout my childhood related to smoking.  the earliest was when i was maybe 4 years old and my mom decided to put me in one of those kid's bicycle seats on the back of her bike and take me for a ride.  i remember asking her "can i take one of my lincoln logs, mommy?"  she agreed, and then while she biked around i pretended to smoke the tiny piece of wood behind her back.  i remember knowing that it was bad, but wanting to do it so much anyway.

then when i was maybe 8 or so, my family was eating at a restaurant that had a wooden deck on the back.  as we all got up to leave, i noticed an entire cigarette that someone had dropped between the slats of the deck.  i instantly wanted it so badly.  i had never touched a real cigarette before and i dreamed of having one to myself - to sneak away and experiment with.  i bent down to pick it up, but it was out of reach.

not long after that i got involved with the boy scouts.  camping was always a big part of that experience, and building fires.  around that time i began a quest that lasted all the way until high school - to construct a home-made cigarette.  i had no access to tobacco, so i tried all manner of other things, including cardboard, paper, and even banana peels.  whenever i was on a camping trip with the scouts i would build some sort of strange cigarette, and then sit in my tent and "smoke" it.  i wasn't really interested in inhaling the smoke, however, just completely fascinated with watching it blow out of my mouth.

during my early years in high school i was very socially awkward, but by 11th grade i developed a small group of friends and we all started to go to parties and experiment with our first beers.  none of my friends smoked, but occasionally we would bump into smokers at parties and it wasn't long before i had the opportunity to smoke my first real cigarette.  i remember i had just started dating this girl who was sort of "out of my league."  i mean, at the time i hadn't really gotten drunk yet, had never really smoked a cigarette yet, and had never had sex.  this girl had done all of those things already and approached the subjects with a nonchalance that really unnerved me.

so one weekend, she managed to get both of us into a small party on the college campus in my hometown.  not only was i nervous about dating this girl, but now we were partying with college kids?  my head was exploding.  we walked in and i grabbed a cold beer and "bummed" a cig from one of the older guys there.  i started puffing on it awkwardly, and for the first time in my life began to draw a small amount of smoke into my lungs.  it felt foreign and uncomfortable, but i loved watching the smoke blow out of my mouth and feeling the buzz of the nicotine in my blood.  the girl said "i didn't know you were a smoker," and i said "not really, just when i party."  i felt like these were the coolest words that had ever escaped my lips.

my relationship with that girl didn't last that long, but i eventually met my "high school romance" later that year.  this is the girl that defined my romantic life in high school - we had all the same friends, we went to prom together, we lost our virginity together, we always thought of each other as "the one."  well, at least i did.  she was a year younger than i was and when i went away to college nothing was ever the same (just like the movies, right?) during winter break after my first semester, she finally broke up with me. 

this girl always hated smoking, by the way.  she was the exact opposite of me - both her parents had smoked their entire life, and her dad owned a bar in my town.  my parents never smoked or drank, except maybe the occasional coors light at a bbq or something.  she knew the dangers of smoking firsthand and didn't want to date someone dumb enough to do that to themselves.  i knew she was right, and i also didn't want to lose her, so i didn't really smoke much during the year that we dated.  occasionally i would try to sneak one at a party, but she would always catch me and threaten to leave me.  i would always apologize and tell her i wouldn't do it anymore.

so suddenly she breaks up with me and the next day i am sitting back in my dorm room at college thinking about how my life sucks.  and what 's the first thing i did?  i went down to the corner store and bought some cigarettes, of course.  i was 18 years old, sad and lonely, and the only person that had managed to stifle my strange cigarette fascination was no longer in my life.  i felt like it made sense.  i wanted to hurt myself to cover up the pain i felt after the breakup, and i also wanted to rebel against my ex by doing the one thing that she hated most.

i quickly became addicted to cigarettes and have remained addicted to this day, 16 years later.  i've gone through periods in my life where i've embraced the addiction, purchasing expensive tobacco, rolling my own, savoring exotic flavors.  i've also gone through times when i hated smoking and wanted nothing but to quit.  overall i think that i've always used smoking to help me perform better socially, and also to slowly commit suicide after a series of disapointments in my life.  these have included:  my first bad breakup, my parents divorce, and my failure to complete my college education.  more recently i could include bankruptcy and the failure of my business.

even though i've been through some hard times, when i look at my life today, i can't complain.  i have a beautiful wife and son, and i'm finally doing something that i love after years of plodding away at jobs i cared nothing about.  i think quitting smoking is like a declaration to the world that i'm ready to live.  i want to live.  i want to be happy and healthy and be with my family.  i don't want to suffocate anymore, and i certainly don't want to let my past ruin the rest of my life.